


Surgeon General's Warning

by ginger_infiltrator



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gore, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, Medical Trauma, Sadism, and sick, and the pairing?, hinted at at best, kylo makes bad decisions, medical gore, not even joking, self-administered surgery, self-vivisection, sin - Freeform, step this way for some sin, the dark side literally gives you cancer, very slight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_infiltrator/pseuds/ginger_infiltrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something dark and hungry growing in Kylo Ren, something entirely foreign and separate from the force. He decides to handle it himself with disastrous consequences. </p>
<p>This fic features graphic description of surgery on the self, so, uh, careful, ok?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surgeon General's Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so. This is my first fic ever posted. 
> 
> I don't know how to justify this except that I am drunk at the moment and was drunk when I wrote it. Kind of. Mostly. Ok, only slightly. There are no excuses. 
> 
> Enjoy the gore!

Kylo Ren was somewhat aware of the consequences of exclusive use of the dark side. Much knowledge had been lost with the near-eradication of the sith. What was left to record came from what scraps could be found of the dark side’s archives and the practical knowledge of Darth Sidious himself. There were the cosmetic changes, surface-level and all together acceptable. The ugliness inside of them matched the grotesque contortions of the face. Some of the vainest darksiders bemoaned this fact. Their passion rode hand in hand with their vanity. Others did not care as long as disfigurement came with power.

There were far more destructive changes under the skin. Mutations and festering of the flesh. The Sith Emperor’s bones had swelled and thickened, gnarling his joints and pushing out the ridges of his face. There was no record of any malignancy in him. Kylo Ren had found one manuscript of a sith lord in the Outer Rim that described the slow descent into incapacitation as a cancerous mass colonized his innards. Ren assumed that this sith had been weak in a crucial aspect of the force and could not sense the wildfire of growth in his own diseased body. There was no other explanation as to why that particular sith had fallen to something so disgraceful as disease. 

None of these consequences dissuaded Ren. He was a young man, and like all young men he lacked the intimate knowledge that he was not, in fact, invincible. Youth assumes that tragedies descend upon other people, and cannot ever befall the self.

At first Ren could not recognize the symptoms for what they were. The dull pain and pulling pressure low to the side of his back mildly irritated him, like the other aches and pains of his muscles after physical training. In his anger in feeling weakness, he pushed harder.

The body has muddled mechanisms when it comes to pain. Most have felt the surface kind of pain. A burn, a cut, a scrape. These insults start brilliant and strong but fade away as the mind focuses on more immediate threats. The further you delve into the body, however, the sharper and more persistent the pain becomes. Injury deep in the core elicits the most exquisite agony. It pushes and pushes until the organism can do little else but curl in on itself and await a certain death. Organ pain does not dull or fade away, it persists, loudly screaming and demanding immediate attention.

The pain in Ren’s lower back became sharper and deeper instead of fading away. At times he would move and his entire abdomen would flinch in a convulsive wave. He was too proud to limp aboard the finalizer, but each step of his left side would send sparks radiating up towards his shoulder blade.

Ren became aware of the ailment one day while meditating. In the quiet of his mind, deep beneath the swirling torrent of passion, he could hear little else but the machinations of his body under the slow rumbling of his own breath.  It was then, in his most raw and vulnerable of states that he keyed in on the steady threat deep in his organs. It was faint at first, drowned out by the slow ambling movements of his digestive system. Eventually he could hear it like a looming physical thing, churning and frantically writhing. The dissonance of mutated DNA driving on the frenetic growth of useless mass rang out against the usual machinations of his body. There, beneath his skin and in the expanse of his abdomen, it greedily took and took and swelled. He did little in his shock. The realization jerked him out of his meditative state too soon, and in his irritation he bowed the walls of his chambers in anxiety.

Ren went over that text again to pinpoint the downfall of the enfeebled, cancerous sith. He could find no guidance. He did not go to Snoke with his anxieties. The mark of illness would only place an expiration date on his usefulness. If he could not go to his master, then he certainly could not go to any of the force-null dullard physicians on the Finalizer.

He tried to cage the thing chewing on his kidney. Ren visualized a fist, its hold tight and unerring around the bulbous mass, tensed at all times. The lump swelled and flexed, slowly increasing the pressure in its confines. At points of certain uncontrollable irritation of his own failings, Ren would jostle the cancerous thing, a slight thrill and vindication at the searing of his insides.

Ren decided to take matters in his own hands after waking one morning and pissing blood. The stream was slightly pinkish, but unmistakable as an omen of impending physical catastrophe.  

He stormed into the med bay and accosted the most accomplished of First Order surgeons. He posed the problem as a thought exercise, and then skimmed off the resulting conclusions and plans from the surgeon’s consciousness. He left a blank hole in return. No use in creating a trail of evidence. Before he swept out of the medical center, he purloined a basic surgeon’s kit.

Kylo Ren rushed through his plan in the off chance that his determination would wither. He had felt pain before, he reasoned. Ren would approach this experience as an exercise in withstanding pain. In his ‘fresher he scrubbed every inch of his skin, and the divots in between, until his skin flared raw. The burn of disinfectant on his abraded skin felt comforting. What works, hurts.

The anteroom of his chambers had been stripped and scrubbed clean by an appropriated sanitation droid. The only furniture inside was a long metal conference table, similarly acquired and disinfected. The table could accommodate all of Ren’s height and bulk.

Ren stiffly laid back on the cool metal surface. He twisted his neck to and fro trying to find a clear line of sight. The angle of his head would tax his muscles but it would be a small discomfort in comparison to what was coming. He briefly stroked the sickly region of his body. The planes of his abdomen rippled with muscle under barely any fat, but here the surface swelled and bulged, jostling like a wet bubble under his skin.

He put on sterile gloves but in truth did not trust his own hands to hold steady. Instead he held the long scalpel with a tendril of the force. The blade brushed shallowly against his skin, exposing the dermis but not much else. Ren gritted his teeth and chastised himself for being so timid. The next pass split the abdominal wall of muscle which readily popped open. A coil of intestine bulged up from the incision, pushed out by the added pressure in Ren’s abdominal vault. It glistened darkly with all the threat of contamination should it be nicked. When Ren looked down on himself, he could only see the protruding of his organs. He shut his eyes tight and strangled a whimper as he drew the blade higher and higher, opening up a wide enough window into his insides. The flap of skin and muscle oozed slowly, and he held it back with the force and gently nudged the undulating mass of his intestines aside.  The sound was almost as unpleasant as the physical sensation itself. His organs squelched in their encasings of fat and fascia. Ren could not help but feel the animal panic cresting in his mind. This movement of organs felt alien and deadly on a primal level.

For a while, Ren only held position and tamped down the flow of blood from the arteries he had unintentionally grazed.

His heart jackhammered so hard in his chest that he could feel the pounding in his throat. He tried to control his breathing, slightly disturbed by the wet sobbing noises he could not stifle. Ren raised his head against the crick forming in his neck and looked inside his abdominal cavity. There, he saw the mass, surprisingly still in all its malignant glory. It had gnawed into the capsule of his kidney, blossoming grotesquely out in muddied shades of red and brown and yellow. One particular bulge slowly rippled with opaque puss. The scalpel quivered. Ren centered himself as best as he knew how as the cool recycled air brushed bizarrely over his organs.

He let his neck go lax and rested his head on the table. Sight seemed more of a distraction at the moment. He felt out the margins of his tumor which wound insidiously into his abdominal walls and into the meat of his kidney. The scalpel traced its outline slowly and as precisely as Ren could manage.

He haltingly lifted the tumor away with the force from the healthy flesh. It stayed anchored by a pulsing tether. The mass had begun to colonize, laying down arteries to feed itself which branched and twisted thickly like in an arboreal network. Feeling the resistance, Ren tugged gently. The mass pulled away with a ripping vesicular pop. He belatedly pinched the artery closed. His muscles bunched and spasmed in shock. The blade skimmed across the swell of his kidney. His back tensed and bowed, shifting his organs suddenly. He vibrated with aftershocks, unintentionally pressing the blade into delicate renal tissue and dragging across to the bunched tubing at its midpoint.

The thin slice ballooned and tore, spewing bright oxygenated blood like a tiny arching geyser. Ren gasped brokenly. Blood quickly flooded his abdomen and in his shock he dropped everything held aloft by the force. The scalpel hit the floor with a metallic jingle. The mass landed with a soft squish, flattening and bursting caseous pus and cellular detritus on the floor. Ren’s intestines sickeningly flopped into the swelling pool of blood, spattering his abdomen, arm, and the table.

For all his mastery of the force and usual control of his own body, Ren could not restrain the deep animal panic racing through him. He clutched desperately at his exposed organs, trying to push them back where they belong. The rapid pounding of his heart pulsed more blood into the cavity, swirling thickly and bubbling at the surface. Ren curled into fetal position, grappling with his marred flesh to keep himself in one piece. His blood pooled on the table and began to drip on the floor.

The world grew black. He can heard the patter of his spilled blood as it struck the floor.

 

…

Kylo Ren slowly crawled his way back into consciousness in med bay to face a tall, blurry figure. A tall, blurry figure with a shock of copper hair. His throat tightened in equal parts fury, defeat, and embarrassment.

“General,” he managed to rasp out, sounding much more broken than impassive. “I didn’t know you cared.”

The image sharpened enough that he could see General Hux roll his eyes.

“Well it wouldn’t do to have the Supreme Leader’s star pupil bleed out in his own quarters.”

“How-“ Ren shuddered hard, breaking off into silence as his abdomen tightened and pulled against a sutured edge with the effort of his speech.

“How did we find you? Is that what you meant? You are not as subtle as you think. A patrol of troopers fell outside of your doors. Some of them were screaming in agony. Your pain tolerance may be high but you’ve been broadcasting it loud and clear to everyone in your vicinity. Well, that is, until you were sedated. Or did you mean how did you manage to survive bleeding yourself like a stuck pig?”

Ren grunted noncommittally.

“My medical officers, which you so rudely bypassed, are the best in the entire fleet. Beyond capable enough to right your surgical bumbling.”

Hux placed his gloved hand gingerly on Ren’s shoulder in a mockery of comfort. Ren attempted to jerk away from the touch only to flinch dramatically at the movement. Hux’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Through the force Ren could taste the edge of vicious pleasure. 

Delicately, the general hovered his other hand above Ren’s wounds. Hux leaned in, pushing his weight onto Ren’s shoulder and insinuating his face much closer than polite company would dictate. Ren watched his light eyelashes flutter briefly. Hux’s eyes slyly slid upwards to catch Ren’s gaze.

“There, there. Stop moving and maybe it will stop hurting.”

His lips twisted cruelly in a smirk as he began to press harder and harder at Ren’s abused flesh. The knight ground his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut tight and swallowing a ripping scream. The pathetic noise escaped in the hard rush of air out of his nostrils. A corona of deep-seated and sick desire burst from Hux’s mind and crashed down on Ren. The whine stifled in his throat pitched higher.

Most of Ren’s force manipulations are borne more out of instinct than intent. A canister came careening towards General Hux’s head. It missed in its wobbly trajectory. The general’s smile stretched, baring his teeth. He dug his fingertips sharply in and straightened.

Kylo Ren and General Hux silently considered each other. Through the haze of sedation, Ren couldn’t help but drift into the mental landscape around him. The distant medical officers radiated nervousness. The general’s mind was a calm contrast, ballooning with satisfaction and triumph. Ren examined a faint sexual note that disturbed him, far from the forefront of the general’s mind but there nevertheless. It flared with the encouragement of being noticed. Hux’s face hardened momentarily.

General Hux reached out to Ren’s beside table and picked up a clear jar. It was bi-chambered and filled with pink preservative mixture. In the top division, the tumor slowly floated, its margins disintegrating. The second half contained the whole of Ren’s ruined kidney. It bobbed slightly as the general rotated the jar in his hands.

“I’m sorry to say that your kidney was irreparably damaged,” The general was not sorry in the least.

“I can live with one.” Ren said.

Another moment of silence passed as Hux regarded the organ bobbing slowly in its container.

“I do believe I’ll keep this. It would make a good paperweight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, uh, be gentle? Maybe? I am a soft forest creature. So many delicacies. I might cry. 
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr if you want, at http://gingerinfiltrator.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> PS Can you tell I haven't written anything besides science writing for like six years? Because I can. I think.


End file.
